Surrender Doesn't Mean the War Is Over
by lostcowgirl
Summary: A stranger still carrying on for the honor of the South renews old battle lines for the people of Dodge. This unrepentant general of the Confederacy places himself between Matt and Kitty.
1. Chapter 1 - The War Goes On

**Chapter 1 – The War Goes On**

Some men and I reckon even a few women can't stop fighting the War Between the States. It may have officially ended about a month and a week shy of 11 years ago, but there are those who can't accept Lee's surrender back on April 9, 1865. They have to keep up the fight. Some, from both sides, carry it on as loners because they can't get out of the habit of killing. Others carry out maneuvers against the Yankees and their money by robbing banks and railroads. Beauregard Fletcher MacDonald wasn't a hardened killer or the apparent leader of a gang posing as his army, but he was still fighting the war. He was firmly convinced of the justice of his cause – so convinced that he was unwilling to give it up for the sake of peace or let others reconcile either.

I knew nothing about him the evening he arrived in town to perform reconnaissance, as he put it. Fact is I paid very little attention to the man of about 40 who was dressed like a Southern gentleman come to town from his plantation. He booked a room at the Dodge House, signing in with General in front of B. F. MacDonald. I didn't see him that first night. He ate supper in the hotel dining room I was later told and then retired to his room overlooking Front Street, keeping to himself until after his breakfast the next morning.

MacDonald probably wouldn't have been noticed at all during the hurrahing that takes place during the cattle season, but this was the first of March 1876. Dodge City was about as quiet as it ever gets. If not for the cold and the occasional late winter blizzard, I could have taken Kitty fishing. Instead, we enjoyed our time together up in her rooms when we wanted to be less than public. I'd left the bed we share just after dawn and had returned for a possible second go-round if there were no customers for either of us to handle. Instead we strolled down the street together toward the bank. We both had business with Mr. Bodkin, the bank president. The man I later learned was MacDonald was haranguing the tellers, but I couldn't hear what it was about.

Kitty immediately recognized him from his attire and accent as the former plantation owner that he was. She'd met many apparent gentlemen like him while growing up rather too quickly in New Orleans. He looked somewhat prosperous. Perhaps he was trying to secure a loan for some business venture or other. Kitty and I continued toward Bodkin's office until Wilbur Jonas stepped in front of us, which was most uncharacteristic of the general store owner, a quiet man. He would politely put up with Chester's shenanigans long after my assistant would have exasperated most other men.

"Marshal, I hate to bother you, but you've got to do something about that man. He's keeping those of us who have businesses to run from getting our transactions done in a timely manner. Can't you hurry him along?"

"Sorry Jonas. Holding up progress at the bank isn't against the law. You and your customers will just have to be patient. I'm sure he'll finish his business soon."

Sure enough, as soon as Jonas went back to his place in line MacDonald finished his business. Before I closed the door behind me to the bank president's office I noticed he walked out with Josiah Wilkins, a nester who'd been in Ford County for the past five years but was none too prosperous despite the hard work put in by him and his three sons.

It didn't take long for either Kitty or me to complete our transactions with Bodkin, although at first he was hesitant to deal with both of us at the same time. We assured him there was nothing the other wouldn't know about before long. Within minutes he'd approved a small loan for her to hire workmen to complete some renovations to her building, particularly concerning some of the upstairs rooms and the area behind the bar. My reason for seeing him had to do with the handling of a gold shipment coming in from the Denver mint. As soon as I outlined my plan for protecting it once the stage entered the western reaches of Ford County, I was also ready to leave.

Despite the short time we spent in the bank both Wilkins and MacDonald were nowhere in sight when I escorted Kitty back to the Long Branch. I didn't think anything of it then, but maybe I should have. Instead I left her heading to the safe in her office to put away the money from the loan with a promise to see her later. The later was supper at Delmonico's at seven that evening.

MacDonald was in the restaurant when Kitty and I found our table. He sat facing the door watching as the customers filed in. Reginald Crestwood sat to his left. I never could figure why Crestwood chose Dodge as his home after the war, but he was largely responsible for bringing the cattle herds up from Texas. As soon as Fort Sumter was fired upon, he made his way east to from his East Texas home to Fort Smith, Arkansas to offer his services as an officer. When the war ended he seized the opportunity to convince his fellow Texans that there was money to be made and a way to get back at the Yankee usurpers in Kansas by selling the free-ranging longhorn cattle in the towns growing up along the expanding railroad lines. It seems he was well aware of the effect of the ticks to which Texas cattle were immune but Kansas' cattle weren't. He soon became one of the top cattle buyers after settling in Dodge not long after Kitty arrived. Like many of the men who made the ride with the herds each year, he was an unrepentant Southern sympathizer who particularly hated Kansans.

Again I ignored him and his supper companion. If MacDonald was planning on settling here he had every right to talk to the other businessmen in town. Although Crestwood still championed the Southern cause and wasn't a man I cared to associate with unless I had to, he'd always stayed within the law. At least I never caught him breaking any, but I was sure I'd find he had if the proof ever turned up. The two left together. Crestwood paid the bill. I'd been watching closely, but even so I missed the quick look of contempt MacDonald sent our way. Kitty didn't. What I saw was that look far too many men get when they gaze upon her. I was sure someone would set him straight, but if it came to it, I would.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Change of Atmosphere

**Chapter 2 – A Change of Atmosphere**

MacDonald's visibility around town increased as his first couple of days of habitation turned into a week. He'd departed from his room at the Dodge House and was now, according to Festus, who was back in town, residing at the Wilkins farm. He still spent time with Crestwood, who had a large house, corral and barn over on the east edge of town close to the stockyards, but far enough away from their stench that his home was still within the area where the most influential citizens lived. He courted the favor of anyone in Dodge who originally haled from the South or sympathized with the defeated Confederate cause. So far he hadn't brought any trouble to my town, but I began to wonder when he would and what form it would take.

I decided it would be prudent to find out more about Beau MacDonald and Josiah Wilkins and his family. Accordingly I looked into where they'd been before hitting Dodge City. I began seeking answers with Wilkins' neighbors and official records here in town. Then I expanded my search to military records on both sides and reports from lawmen and others with an interest in their local history as well as spoilers drifting into my town who'd also passed through all the places the men I was interested in might have been. Some of those I questioned steered me to newspaper accounts of past incidents.

Josiah Wilkins, his wife Cora and sons Parker, 25, Cullen, 20 and Stanton, 15 claimed their homestead 15 miles southeast of town almost five years to the day after Lee's surrender. They'd traveled from Tennessee after trying unsuccessfully to regain even a portion of the plantation the family held near Chattanooga just north of the Georgia border. In reality, there wasn't much to reclaim.

Not so with MacDonald, who joined the Third Mississippi Infantry of the CSA as a captain because of the number of Biloxi Rifle recruits he brought with him as soon as his native state seceded. His cotton crop was lost to him, as were his slaves, but he managed to find enough in the intact house to sell to continue his fight against the Yankee usurpers even after the Gulf Coast town's surrender to the US Navy. Promoted in the field to General, he took the cash he was able to raise and by 1872 made his way further west by way of New Orleans from his Mississippi home west of Biloxi on the Gulf determined to relieve the sufferings of the former white gentry like himself at the hands of the carpetbaggers. There and in Baton Rouge he called upon his and his now deceased wife's relations and other sympathizers with his cause to ensure not mere survival, but the thriving of the southern way of life they cherished. All contributed what they could in money or other ways open to them.

This general without an official army took it upon himself to go after northern sympathizers and carpetbaggers who'd taken over lands and businesses from their original owners through intimidation and innuendo. He found many who were willing to follow his orders in Louisiana, east Texas, and western Arkansas and Missouri. His campaigns were surprisingly successful and he managed to leave before the authorities could pin anything on him and without acquiring the evil reputation of Quantrill and his men. I reckon he felt he was now ready to continue the fight in western Kansas where Quantrill's legacy wasn't quite as much in the forefront, but there were enough folks still inwardly fighting the war on both sides to make it worthwhile.

Because he'd been in New Orleans, I tried to find out as much as I could about his contacts there. I had the feeling those people were the reason MacDonald chose Dodge City as the place to begin his campaign. I contacted the Marshal's Office and local police in New Orleans to see if they had anything more on the man. I wanted to know who was backing his move to Kansas and my town in particular, to survey the territory and recruit likely volunteers. If I knew who they were, I'd also know why.

I didn't want to involve her, but as soon as I learned that while in New Orleans MacDonald had sought leading Confederate stalwarts from the French gentry of that city and their gentleman gambler acquaintances like Kitty's father Wayne Russell, I knew she was the only one who might learn more. She'd renewed her friendship with Lucy Critt and was again writing to her regularly. The rift came after she demeaned herself in the Long Branch in order to save Lucy's kid brother Billy from getting himself killed. Kitty agreed to wire her friend seeking details of MacDonald's past, particularly his dealings with New Orleans society.

The reply wasn't long in coming. According to Lucy, MacDonald had sought assistance from Kitty's maternal relatives as well as her father, who spoke of the success of his daughter in Dodge and her rejection of him under the influence of the Yankee marshal there, Matt Dillon. He'd also contacted Lucy's husband, a prominent lawyer who used a particular friend in the Marshal's Office there to find out as much as he could about me for MacDonald. He learned where I lived until I was orphaned and where I went and how I earned my way from then until now, including my stint in the Union Army. I hoped he hadn't figured out how close I am to Kitty, although I suspect he did if he began his search because of what her father told him.

By now MacDonald probably knows I'm aware of just who he is. He'll be more secretive with his plans than he was a week ago when he first arrived. That meant I needed to keep a close eye on him. To do that I needed at least two men I could count on. Sam wouldn't be able to get away from the Long Branch enough, but would be an added set of eyes and ears in the saloon. Doc had his rounds to make. Besides, that self-styled general already knows how close I am to Doc from studying my history.

First, I stopped by the blacksmith's to ask Quint Asper for his help and then went looking for Festus Haggen. Both men were fairly new in town and so not obviously associated with me. The half Comanche and the hill man would be perfect for watching MacDonald's movements. I'd even pay deputy's wages for however long it took. I just didn't need that unrepentant rebel stirring up Ford County any more than he already had. Fact is, I'd prefer it if he got out of Dodge, but I had no cause to send MacDonald packing; yet.


	3. Chapter 3 - Now It's Personal

**Chapter 3 – Now It's Personal**

Festus jumped at the chance to abandon helping out at the stables for the easier task of following a man even before Moss agreed. Quint had a job for the army to complete before he would also be free so Festus took the first shift. I watched him linger on the Boardwalk for a spell and then follow MacDonald into the Lady Gay as I rode south out of town to serve papers on a poor pilgrim who couldn't scrape enough together to pay his rent for the last three months on the land he was working with his wife and son. They homesteaded the place, filed their claim as required so it was legally theirs for far too short a time.

The Wilsons hit a spell of bad luck. With no money to buy seed for spring planting two years back they borrowed against the next year's crop. The bad luck continued thanks to draught, injury and illness so they lost it when they couldn't pay back the money they borrowed against it. The man who paid off the loan to claim the land wasn't above grabbing up land when he had the opportunity. As mean spirited as it was, Ben Fuller wasn't doing anything illegal by evicting them a year later right before spring planting. I didn't relish kicking a man and his family off his place, but it was part of my job so I did it. I rode up to the Wilson place with the eviction notice in my coat pocket. Fred Wilson was just coming out of the barn so I hailed him before I dismounted. He waved me closer.

"Hello there, Marshal. You've come just in time for dinner. Martha would be plumb proud for you to sit at our table. She makes more than enough for four. That hasn't changed even though Clarence eats his midday meal in town now that he's learning to be a baker so we don't even need vittles for three."

"I don't know how proud she'd be once she knows the reason I came."

"I got an idea what it is, but come in the house anyway. You can tell both of us what Fuller only hinted at when he stopped me outside the general store yesterday."

I followed the lanky farmer inside and waited while he called his wife. I handed him the eviction Ben Fuller had Judge Brooking sign. They were behind three months in their rent and Fuller wanted them off his property before a fourth month passed even if they scraped together the money before then. The two of them stood in front of me after reading the papers and stared for a moment or two. Then Wilson finally spoke up.

"Marshal, we ain't sayin' you had anythin' directly to do with Fuller deciding to send us packin' even if we could come up with the money we owe in less than a month, but we sure don't aim for you Yankees to take even more from us before I begin plowin'. You can tell him we'll fight to keep this land. A Yankee just like him stole our land back in Tennessee and we won't let it happen again. That Bodkin's in on it with Fuller or else he couldn't have bought it up behind our back the day the loan was due by payin' it off and claimin' our farm is his. We sold off everything we could after that bad crop last year and wired my uncle in Louisville for a loan, but the stage was late. That loan was a day past due, but it was already too late. Bodkin told us we had to deal with Fuller and all he'd allow was for us to rent back the place from him. He knew I couldn't pay anymore than I already did until after the first crop. Now git!"

I left. Wilson was in no mood for me to linger. Fuller had a reputation for being a sharp operator when it came to land deals, but I had no idea he'd obtained the land the way the defiant farmer described it. Everything was legal, but that didn't mean it didn't stink. I wonder if Bodkin knew what the land dealer had planned when he let him pay off the loan? I'd best have a talk with him and see what I could do for the folks I'd just left.

After putting up my horse at the livery, I walked back to my office. Nobody was there so I made my way down the boardwalk. I'd find Quint and Festus down later to learn what they'd found out about MacDonald and his movements after I talked to the banker and then to Kitty. Mr. Bodkin seemed as surprised as I was at the turn of events. He'd been certain when he accepted the payment from Fuller that it was with the purpose of giving Wilson a chance to keep his land with a rent to buy agreement. Additionally, he thought the land speculator would wait until the first crops were sold. That's how Jonas operates. He carries them on his books until they have cash. Bodkin's only suggestion was to unearth some Good Samaritan to actually do what he'd thought Ben Fuller was doing when he paid off Fred Wilson's loan.

I walked further down Front Street to the Long Branch to talk with Kitty. Perhaps she could help in some way. At first I didn't see her sitting at our usual table looking over her books. Even so, I walked straight to the bar and ordered a shot of rye from Sam before I joined her. I didn't even notice the free lunch hadn't been cleared away even though I was hungry. Somehow the events of the morning made me forget I hadn't eaten anything since dawn and that was a stale bun from the bakery and my own, not even Chester's coffee.

"What's wrong, Cowboy? You don't usually drink whiskey this early in the day. Tell me about it while we eat. Sam, bring over a couple of sandwiches, a bowl of hardboiled eggs and a couple of glasses of beer, please."

Sam was used to our preferences and had brought over our lunch by the time I sat down and Kitty closed her ledger. I waited until he'd walked back to the bar before telling Kitty about my morning. As I hoped, she had the solution. She'd convince Fuller to sell the property to her at a small profit to him and would in turn deed the land back to the Wilsons. If he agreed to Kitty's offer, I'd stop wondering why he so suddenly foreclosed just as planting season arrived.

We'd just finished eating when Festus walked in and joined us. He, Chester and Quint had to break up a couple of fights that broke out while I was gone, but nothing serious. The curious part was these were fights between leading citizens, who had previously been friends. One was between the fathers of a courting couple that had announced their engagement with their parents' blessing a week before MacDonald's arrival. Until today both men had been happy about the match. It would have meant joint ownership of the harness and saddle maker's shops, which were next door to each other, by their children for their grandchildren to inherit.

I finally caught up with Quint when I entered the Long Branch to take Kitty to supper and find out what happened with her attempt to buy what I still thought of as the Wilson farm. He was leaning against the bar talking to Sam while watching MacDonald quietly talking to Kitty. I joined him. We watched while I listened to his report.

Altogether too much of MacDonald's time was spent near Kitty. I'd asked her and Sam to keep tabs on the man, but that didn't mean I liked him being close to her. I liked it even less when, while Quint and I were watching, he leaned in too close to her and she slapped his face. I crossed the room in three strides and knocked him flat before he could do anything else.


	4. Chapter 4 - Measures and Countermeasures

**Chapter 4 – Measures and Countermeasures**

I glared at MacDonald as he picked himself off the floor while I took Kitty's arm. He stared back. I'd planned on this being a long evening for us so I dressed for the occasion, including what she refers to as my courting coat and best string tie under the warm jacket I wore against the almost mid-March evening chill. The man I'd just knocked down sure came close to spoiling it.

I could feel General Beau Macdonald's eyes burning into my back as I put my arm around Kitty's waist and her arm curled around my waist once the batwing doors of the Long Branch swung closed behind us. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled a small warning, but not enough of one to make me turn around to face whatever sidearm he had hidden beneath his coat because I got no warning from Quint or Sam.

For once we actually managed a leisurely supper at Delmonico's. I was even able to walk her back to work with a promise to see her later before starting my early evening rounds. It wasn't until I was well into those rounds that I heard a shot. It sounded like it came from a couple of blocks toward the railroad depot and maybe a street over. I raced down Front Street and turned left at First Avenue toward the alley that provides rear access to the shops on the north side of our main business street. A crowd was already gathering in back of the Gosley harness shop that's next door to the Mercer's saddler shop. Their homes are directly opposite their businesses, but facing Chestnut Street, a couple of houses further east toward Bridge Street.

Young Jeff Mercer lay on the ground while his father Stuart argued with his counterpart, Martin Gosley, who still held the gun he'd obviously used in his hand. Mrs. Mercer knelt by her fallen son and glared across his body toward Mrs. Gosley who was trying to pull her daughter Nora away from Jeff's side. I pushed my way through the crowd and took the revolver from the unresisting Gosley. After ordering everyone to move back and for someone to get Doc, I knelt by the boy, who was trying to rise despite the bullet in his left shoulder.

"Take it easy Jeff. Lie back until Doc has a chance to look at you. If you're not family and have nothing useful to tell me move along. It's all over."

The crowd of onlookers didn't move more than a foot but made room for Doc to get to the small group at their center so he could see to Jeff. After a quick examination to determine how badly the boy was hurt he gave orders for the Mercers to help their son stand up and walk the short distance to Doc's office. The spell broke. Folks began moving away, including the Gosleys.

"Hold on Martin, Mrs. Gosley, Nora. I need to know what happened. Let's go inside to talk."

"I reckon it would be better in private. The Mercers already know my reasons but there's no need for the rest of the Yankees in this town to know. I don't rightly want you, a Yankee lawman, in my home or to even talk to you, but I'll do it if it gets you off my back and to spare my womenfolk further embarrassment. Besides, you've got my gun."

I sensed the hand of MacDonald in this. Maybe after I talked with both families I'd know just how much of a hand. I followed the three Gosleys through their yard and into the back door of their home. I waited for the three of them to take a seat on the sofa before I sat in a chair opposite, taking a quick glance at the distance to the shotgun above the fireplace and to the door as I did it. We sat in silence. The parents glared at me, while Nora's eyes flicked back and forth from her parents to me.

Nora's expression changed to one of determination. Then she began to relate her version of the events leading up to her father shooting her young man. MacDonald had stopped by the harness shop out front briefly to drop off a bridal he wanted repaired and told them he would have ordered a new saddle from the Mercers if he hadn't learned they were Yankees from his new friend Reginald Crestwood. He implied a Yankee would booby-trap whatever he provided for a known son of the Confederacy. However, it was a visit from former homesteader and now evicted tenant farmer Fred Wilson and homesteader Josiah Wilkins, who, like them, was originally from near Chattanooga, in Tennessee, that turned her parents against Jeff.

"Marshal, I don't see why us being from Tennessee and the Mercers from Missouri should suddenly make a difference. Jeff told me his folks favored the north, but both of us were kids during the war. I was 17 on my last birthday and he'll be 19 next month."

"I didn't realize it, but Wilkins served with me in the War of Northern Aggression. I'd forgotten he was our captain since I don't see much of him. He told me Stu Mercer nearly killed him at Shiloh. Unlike his younger brother Clayton, who was taken down by a Yankee bullet in the same battle, Mercer was a traitor to his heritage. Any man capable of that can't have raised his son properly. I told Mercer and that boy of his that the engagement was off and if I caught Jeff anywhere near my Nora I'd shoot him."

"Martin, I know feelings still run high even after all these years, but I have to agree with your daughter. The kids weren't at Shiloh like you and I were. They shouldn't have to choose sides. I can only hope Stan's more sensible about this and doesn't press charges. If he does I'll have to arrest you. Meanwhile, I'll keep your gun and take your shotgun. Whatever happens, you might think about what Nora said."

"Before I agree to hand over my shotgun, I want you to answer one question, Dillon. Which side were you on at Shiloh and where was your unit from?"

"That was two questions, but I have no problem answering. I served in a Union Calvary unit that was transferred to Tennessee from Texas."

"I thought you were a Kansas lawman, but it turns out that like Mercer you're a traitor to the South. That's far worse than being a Yankee because you were born to it. I won't let you have my shotgun!"

With those words, Gosley stood and tried to grab for the shotgun. I got to him just as he was reaching for it despite Myrtle Gosley's attempt to get between her husband and me. I now had no choice but to arrest him. Chester was in the office when I got there so I left him to lock up the previously law abiding business owner while I went to talk to Jeff Mercer, if he was up to it, and his parents to get their side of things. The story was similar, but it was Ben Fuller who convinced Stu Mercer to change his mind about his son marrying Nora Gosley. Jeff felt the same as his girl. His mother Edith sided with his father. Still, the older Mercer surprised me when he declined to press charges.

"Gosley did what was right for his girl. I told Jeff now that we know how she was raised he was better off staying away from Nora. Only if he did more than slightly wound my boy would I insist you arrest that snake. If Jeff had died I'd want to see Gosley hang. He had to have taught his daughter to uphold slavery and privilege. In my own family I sided with my pa against slavery while my ma wanted to preserve the southern way of life. Ma's folks lived just over the Tennessee line when pa was courting her."

I don't know what Fuller was doing stirring up Dodge citizens who grew to manhood in those states where a man could go either way and family loyalties were often split. Perhaps he felt someone had to do something to balance against MacDonald and his friends. I suspect it's merely a chance to make a pile of money and not any desire to restart the war on a smaller scale in Dodge. MacDonald wants just that. He's following the pattern he set in previous towns. As in the past, the man is careful. He doesn't act directly so I can't charge him with anything; at least not yet. Still, he's bound to make a mistake. Maybe having him followed will pay off before it's too late for my town.


	5. Chapter 5 - An Unwanted Suitor

**Chapter 5 – An Unwanted Suitor**

I watched her from across the street once I'd finished locking up Martin Gosley and talking with the Mercers. I knew her history. We'd shared enough of our past and present during the nearly ten years since we first met that I knew how hard she worked to get free of that old life by turning it to her advantage. Kitty Russell was used to men's attentions. Most of them she could handle easily. She wouldn't still be alive, yet alone owner of the best saloon in Kansas, perhaps the best west of the Mississippi, otherwise. Still, there were times when a man wouldn't take no for an answer or he wanted to get to me through her. More often than I'd like that meant I had to step in.

At first she had no control over the attentions or lack of them those men thrust upon her, which began with her mother's death when she was ten. First it was her father, whose selfishness I learned about firsthand when he came here right after she became Bill Pence's partner. Then it was men with even less concern for her welfare. Well, one of them, whom I'd met some six years ago, did have some real feelings for her, but he made the mistake of robbing the bank. I have some regrets about killing him, but not those whom her father gave control over her life until she escaped at 15. They tried to regain the control they'd lost when she ran away during the War right here in Dodge. I have no regrets about killing them to protect her.

Now, at 29 as of her recent birthday, the War Between the States is inserting itself into our lives again in the form of General MacDonald, formerly of the Confederacy. I'm proud of what she's achieved and I'm not about to let anyone bring up those days when she was no longer the seminary girl, but a piece of property to be pawed and more by whatever man paid the asking price. Maybe I shouldn't have asked her to learn what she could from MacDonald or lost my temper and hit him like I did earlier this evening.

The beautiful, redheaded businesswoman celebrated her birthday a mere two weeks ago. Doc and Sam, her head bartender, had put together a surprise party for her. I even managed to be there, although I came into the Long Branch after everyone had shouted "surprise". I'm happy I was able to remain for our very private celebration that night. I watched her smile at the memory, or maybe she was simply smiling at me across the room. It's hard to say because at times we're so in tune that we sense each other's thoughts. I inched closer, but so did another, who was closer. Avoiding a confrontation that might spoil any chance of putting the man behind bars, I headed toward the bar, but stood for a moment where neither he nor Kitty could see me.

"May I be presumptuous enough to assume that smile is for me? A fine example of Southern womanhood such as yourself could only reserve such a facial expression for a Southern gentleman," Beau MacDonald purred as he took her right hand in his and kissed it.

I silently fumed where I stood, but refrained from rushing across the space separating us to backhand him for taking liberties. I have no right to interfere. As much as I didn't want it to be the case, perhaps she appreciated his attempt at courting, if that's what it is. Perhaps I'm wrong to think he looks upon her as a traitor because she's close to me, a prime example of a man who, in his view, should have fought for the South. Maybe Kitty will provide the incentive for him to settle down and forget the past. If he wants to give her the home and family that I can't, I won't stand in his way if that's what she wants. I love her too much to do anything else.

I found myself standing at the bar where Festus and Quint joined me. The words exchanged earlier in the day by Kitty and the invading general, as reported by our half Comanche blacksmith, fit perfectly with what I'd just witnessed. Quint then headed back to his shop to get some sleep. His work had been piling up while he was helping me. Squeezing in enough of it so he didn't fall too far behind had tuckered him out. Festus, who had no steady work, agreed to continue to follow MacDonald until the man turned in for the night or left town for Wright's farm. Watching the scene before us, I dreaded his report's contents later tonight.

Festus and I left the room together. Once the hill man turned back toward the Long Branch, I began my late rounds. My last stop would be the usual, but at this point I wasn't sure she'd be willing to keep our close to nightly, when I'm in town, end of rounds date. Dodge remained quiet as I completed the circuit. It was time for that last stop. As I approached the saloon, which had already closed its doors for the night, Festus sidled up to me.

"Marshal, I don't know what all that MacDonald feller tol her while I was a palaverin' with you, but she had nary a drink with him. He looked all bothered when he left fer his room at the Dodge House. You want I should camp out in the lobby in case he decides to go out agin?"

"No, Festus. You can go back to tailing him at dawn. I'm guessing he's done for the night."

Making a show of checking that the glass doors were locked, I left for the alley next to the saloon and then up the back stairs. I suddenly felt very much in need of the brandy Kitty would pour. There was this nagging doubt about the nature of the welcome I'd receive. I wearily climbed the stairs, using my key to unlock the outer door. Once inside I strode down the hall to Kitty's room and knocked instead of using my key or checking to see if the door were unlocked.

"Come in Matt," she said recognizing my footsteps. I left it open for you."

I entered to find her sitting on the divan in her nightgown and matching robe, her hair already down, with her feet curled up beneath her. Two glasses and a decanter of brandy sat ready on the table in front of it. She scrunched over to make room for me as soon as I hung my hat, coat and gun belt on the peg by the door. Once I was seated she snuggled up against me. With one hand she reached for one of the glasses and handed it to me. With the other she took the remaining glass and sipped from it.

"I figured you'd need this. I suspected you were close by when MacDonald kissed my hand. I accepted one drink from him, but turned down his dinner invitation for tomorrow. He's a perceptive man. I suspect he came to realize that smile wasn't meant for him, but for the man behind and to the left of him he couldn't see but knew was there."

I breathed a sigh of relief, put down my glass and leaned over to kiss her full on the lips. At least my New Orleans lady wasn't succumbing to what seemed to be ailing the rest of the town. She still wanted her Missouri man by way of Arizona, New Mexico and Texas who took the Union side because what his parents taught him before they died allowed for nothing else. I temporarily put aside that other fear that she would be targeted to get to me.


	6. Chapter 6 - Things Get Moving

**Chapter 6 – Things Get Moving**

Kitty allowing MacDonald to kiss her hand was a far cry from slapping his face less than a week ago. She explained that this time he changed his tactics. He'd decided to act the gentleman and apologized for treating her as a whore for running a saloon and taking up with the likes of me. He found out from Edith Mercer, whose nephew worked in the land office, that she was able to buy the land from Ben Fuller and deed it over to the Wilsons and register the changes at the land office. All that remained was to bring the deed to their farm.

Knowing Kitty's preferred her good deed remain anonymous I volunteered to ride out there in the morning to hand the Wilsons their copy of the new deed showing the farm was now theirs unless they failed to pay their taxes. Since Kitty had already taken the copy meant for them, I'd leave as soon as I checked with Festus, Quint and Chester, who'd been matching dimes with Moss Grimmick late that night on the whereabouts of MacDonald and arranged for continued surveillance. I didn't like it, but now that MacDonald was wooing her, Kitty was also in a position to learn the man's plans. Possibly she was in the best position.

As was my custom I rose at first light and headed through the alleys to my office. Chester had just awakened and was still pulling his boots on when I entered. MacDonald's horse was still at the stable when Chester left Moss for his cot in the office at two. By the time the coffee boiled Festus joined us. He'd been playing poker in the back room of the Dodge House and so hadn't been to bed. The general was still in his room. He'd explained to Howard when he booked it that it was too late to try to reach the Wright homestead and Crestwood was probably asleep.

I sent Festus off to get a few hours sleep before Chester and I headed for Delmonico's for breakfast. We'd just started across the street when there was an explosion. It appeared to be at the building a few blocks east of the Lady Gay where there were a number of offices for land dealers, stock traders, accountants and lawyers. Our meal forgotten, the two of us raced past the restaurant to assess the damage and see what could be done. Ben Fuller's office was a mess, but the man himself appeared to be physically unharmed. He was angrily waiving a note as we approached.

"What do you plan to do about this Marshal? I found it tacked on my door this morning. I pulled it off just before the explosion. I could have been killed. Read it then go arrest them!"

The note read, "Fuller, the charges have been set to punish you for the Yankee scalawag that you are. Depending on when you arrive, you may or may not blow up with your desk and the cabinet behind it. We waited until a Daughter of the South secured ownership of the Wilson farm for that worthy family."

It was signed Committee for the Rights of Displaced Confederates. I knew MacDonald, Crestwood and Wright were behind it, but I had no proof. Chester and I pushed past Fuller to see what was left of his office. A line of ashes ran straight from the center of the blast out through a hole dug in the wall just below the window that had been jimmied to gain entry. Although the glass had largely been blown out, I could still see the marks of the chisel that was used. Clearing out the remaining glass and raising what remained of the sash, I climbed out the window while Chester stayed in the room to keep the crowd back. I followed the line that was all that remained of the fuse 100 yards to where it ended. A burnt out match lay on the ground.

Whoever had planted the bomb had broken into Fuller's office to place the dynamite sometime during the night. He'd then waited outside until it was close to the time when the land broker generally arrived at his office. Then he lit the fuse that would reach the explosives under the desk in 15 minutes. He was long gone before Fuller arrived. The land speculator only escaped death because he lingered at home with his wife a couple of minutes longer than usual.

I made my way back around to the front of the building to survey the crowd that Chester was keeping at bay. Festus and Quint were both there. The noise stopped the hill man from heading to his shack to sleep and sent the blacksmith running from his shop. All three had spotted Wright and MacDonald, but not Crestwood. They'd arrived separately; MacDonald from the Dodge House and Wright from the stable. I knew they had something to do with the bombing but no proof. There was nothing for it but to send folks on their way except for the two I wanted to talk to in hopes one or both would let something slip.

"Hold on a minute, Wright, MacDonald. I've got some questions."

"I don't care what you want from me, Dillon. I don't have anything for you. I got supplies to get at the general store and no time to waste with a Yankee law dog. If you come out to my ranch you'll get the same welcome my folks give all Yankees who try to push their weight around. I can guarantee you'll be shot if you try to take me in on false charges. You comin' back to the place Beau?"

"Nah, I got things to do here in town. There's a certain red-haired lady from New Orleans I plan to pursue further."

The two men turned and walked away from me and I had no legal reason to keep them from doing just that. Quint and Festus walked toward the center of town but not before they agreed to continue their surveillance of MacDonald. I set up two-hour shifts for them for the rest of the day unless MacDonald left town. I especially wanted them to try and hear what was said if he got together with Wright while both were in Dodge. Sam and Kitty could take over if they were in the Long Branch. Meanwhile, Chester and I would ride out to Wright's place to see what we could find out. While waiting for Chester to bring the horses around, I stopped to talk with Kitty. Breakfast would have to wait until we got back.


	7. Chapter 7 - An Armed Camp

**Chapter 7 – An Armed Camp**

I hoped to arrive at Josiah Wilkins' homestead ahead of the owner so I could see what he did once he got there. I'm quite sure I spotted Reginald Crestwood in the crowd following the bombing heading back to his office in the Cattleman's Association building. I wondered where the pro-South cattle buyer fit into whatever General MacDonald was hatching. My hunch was that some of my answers were to be found at the Wilkins' rundown farm.

Chester and I skirted the house and dismounted, leaving our horses in a small stand of trees. They provided nearly all the cover near or on the Wilkins' land. The relentless wind and sun were part of the reason the farm hadn't thrived even though the southwestern edge of their land bordered on the Arkansas. He and his sons were forced to dig three wells as first one dried and was replaced by the next. By the time they'd arrived six years ago, there were fewer areas where good land was still available from the Homestead Act and they didn't have the money to buy anything better if they hoped for at least the 160 acres promised by the government. The rest was that Wilkins was too proud to ask any Yankee farmer for advice, neighbor or not. Slaves and overseers had provided the expert knowledge at their old place.

From our vantage point we could see sentries guarding the house from unwanted intruders. The large number of horses indicated that some sort of meeting was taking place inside. Therefore, I wasn't surprised when I saw Fred Wilson step outside and relieve one of the men on guard. We waited around until Crestwood rode up. He hailed his approach from about 100 yards away. They not only let him past, but saluted as he dismounted and gave the reins to one of the men outside. I recognized him as Wilkin's youngest, Stanton.

This was our chance to find out something. I signaled Chester to sneak around to the barn from the opposite side. My route was the shorter one so I arrived just after the boy brought Crestwood's sorrel inside. He hadn't bothered to close the door or to look to see if he was being followed. Why should he in a camp full of armed men all loyal to his father and, I assumed, their commanding officer General Beau MacDonald? There was another question that needed an answer if the lad could provide it. Where was that particular man?

I wrapped my arm around the boy so that it covered his mouth, effectively preventing the 15-year-old from calling out for help, just as Chester entered. I eased the pressure slightly as soon as Chester was in position to knock him on the side of his head if he so much as started to open his mouth wider than required for a whisper. Once he nodded his head that he accepted my conditions, I uncovered his mouth while still keeping a strong hold on him. Then I asked my questions.

"Marshal, I got somethin' to say before I tell you what you want to know. First, I don't remember our old place back in Tennessee outside of Chattanooga. I do remember us comin' here to settle six years ago when I was only nine. I remember how you and our Yankee neighbors helped us out over the years otherwise we would have starved. Despite what my folks and older brothers say about not trustin' a Yankee and trusting a traitor to the cause even less, I believe you're an honorable man. I'll answer your questions because you'll find out the answers in time, but I won't become your spy. I won't go against my people. However, before that I want your word of honor that you won't kill me or let it out that I helped you in any way. Your word too, Chester. Pa thinks you're also a traitor like the marshal."

We both gave our word and I promised further that we'd leave quietly if he, in turn, gave his word that he wouldn't tell those in the meeting that we'd come by. I didn't care what excuse he came up with to explain how long it took him to get back to the house as long as we had a chance to get clear. Stanton agreed. Time was running out before someone came looking for him, so I encouraged the boy to say his piece quickly while we helped with Crestwood's horse.

MacDonald was in town to tend to the final arrangements for implementing his plan. He'd come up with the basic strategy and was leaving it up to his officers, Stanton's pa Josiah and Reginald Crestwood to deploy the men to set everything in motion. Their intension was to come down hard on Yankee-owned businesses, especially the bank, my office, the post office, the telegraph office and the railroad and stage depots. All services would be restored once all these buildings were firmly under Confederate control. The boy was clueless as to just how or even when things would take place, but even if he knew he would have kept silent about the details since they involved his family.

Stanton had just finished talking when I heard someone approaching. Chester and I ducked behind bales of hay scant seconds before Parker and Cullen Wilkins appeared at the open barn door to check on their younger brother. The two young men glanced suspiciously around the barn even though they could see the boy was fine and Crestwood's horse was in a stall munching away on grain.

"Little bro you need to grow up. Back in '65 boys your age were men fightin' for the cause. I'd already joined up," said 25-year-old Parker. "Cullen would have joined up if Lee hadn't surrendered and if pa hadn't needed both of us to try to get the plantation back from the carpetbaggers. When we couldn't do that, he needed us to help prove the land up so he could claim this place. Now it's time to renew the fight. That means you too. Pa will fill us in on whatever we need to do after the rest leave."

"Sorry, I reckon I was wool gatherin' out here. I would've come back sooner if I knew pa thinks I'm now old enough to do my part," Stanton replied as he followed his brothers out the door and closed it behind him.

I waited until the footfalls of the three brothers faded before I signaled to Chester that it was time we got back to where we'd hidden our horses. We slipped as quietly as we could out of the building, keeping to the shadows that formed close to it until we were on the side farthest from the house. Staying as low as we could, we raced for the small stand of trees where we hoped our horses were still undiscovered. Luck was with us, but to be on the safe side we walked them under as much cover as we could find a mile further before mounting and heading back to Dodge at a pace that would cover the 15 miles in something under an hour and a half.


	8. Chapter 8 - I Need to Talk to Privately

**Chapter 8 – I Need to Talk to Her Privately**

Chester took our horses to the stable while I walked into my office. The ride back had been quick and silent. Absentmindedly I moved first to the stove only to find the fire was out and the coffee pot empty. Despite the lack of a cup of coffee to help me think, I sat down behind my empty desk and put my feet up on it. Thanks to this morning's explosion, the office was cold, there was no coffee and no mail, not that I really expected my paycheck. All I could do was think about the meaning of the events in town and at the Wilkins farm until my assistant returned.

My town was in trouble. It was a fact, not a suspicion, thanks to what Stanton Wilkins had told Chester and me less than a couple of hours ago. I knew what was planned but had no idea how or when what the youngest Wilkins had revealed would be carried out. For all I knew, the boy only knew a small portion of what they intended. I needed more information and fast. I stood up to leave just as Chester returned with an armload of wood. Somehow he'd managed to open the back door without dumping it all on the floor before he reached the metal bin next to the stove.

Since my assistant was busily building a fire in the stove and preparing a pot of coffee made from what I thought was old grounds, I settled back in my chair until he brought me a cup of the brew. He chattered away and sang under his breath while busying himself with his tasks. By listening between the lines I learned that he'd started a pot first thing this morning so all we had to do was wait for it to boil. As if on cue, Doc shuffled through the door and sat down at the small table occupying the middle of the room, visibly annoyed that the coffee wasn't ready.

"Doc, since we have to wait, you just might do something more useful than grumbling. Did any of your patients tell you anything about what MacDonald and the other Southerners are planning?"

"Sorry Mister Marshal. The same people who couldn't stop talking in front of their doctor now clam up and barely allow me to administer to them. It seems a Yankee doctor who is close friends with a turncoat is no longer to be trusted."

Doc's reply didn't improve my mood any. Too restless to sit and wait for the hot drink, I jumped up from behind my desk, strode to the door and opened it. Glancing up and down Front Street, I looked for Quint and Festus. I didn't care which of them was free from his assigned task of following MacDonald at the moment. I saw neither of them nor any sign trouble had started. By the time I ducked back inside the coffee was ready.

Drinking the coffee didn't cure my restlessness. I still needed to know as much as possible of what MacDonald was up to before I talked to Kitty up in her rooms. Actually, I wanted to see her sooner, maybe on a picnic even if the weather was a bit chilly. I started to smile at the thought of spending the afternoon alone with Kitty. I pictured us by the water closer than we usually dared. Maybe we'd fish a bit, talk and eat too. I could imagine the aroma rising from the picnic basket as she opened it.

Suddenly I understood why Chester walked away muttering when I sent him to find Quint. He could never go more than two hours without thinking of food and we'd missed breakfast. I decided my first stop should be Delmonico's, so I called out after him. He hadn't managed to get beyond the corner of the jailhouse and stopped immediately. Doc followed me out the door and the three of us strolled down Front Street toward the restaurant and through its door.

Quint sat eating with Moss Grimmick the stable man but it was who was sitting at the next table that stopped me in my tracks. Kitty was deep in conversation with MacDonald while they finished their meal. Actually, it was more MacDonald doing the talking while she tried to be polite and listen. It surprised me how much his attentions toward her galled me. After all, I'd asked her to learn what she could from him. She'd fill me in about everything later tonight.

Hank rose, leaving the money for his meal on the table, but Quint lingered since MacDonald and Kitty were still there. Doc, Chester and I inched our way toward him just as Festus walked in and took another nearby table on the far side of the table where Kitty and MacDonald were preparing to leave. We three sat one table closer to the door than the one from which Quint was just now rising. All five of us watched the couple of interest exit. Once the striking redhead and southern gentleman, at least by his attire, exited, our town blacksmith followed them on to the street.

Pretense no longer being necessary, I waved for Festus to join us. If he had some solid information paying for his meal would be well worth it. Joe shuffled over to take our order. By this time Delmonico's dinner crowd was mostly gone so once the waiter left I felt confident our conversation wouldn't be overheard.

"I cain't say I got much ta tell yah Matthew. Them two yah asked me and the Comanche ta foller went ta Crestwood's office from the splosion, but not in a straight line. They whispered so low in there I couldn't hear what they was sayin' and had to scrabble away from the door before they seen me when they came out. Quint was round by the window. I followed Wright while the Comanche tailed after MacDonald onest they'd split up. That nester went straight from that cattle dealer's room ta the Long Branch fer a swaller. After, he skedaddled over to Ross' General Store to buy dynamite 'n' a whole bunch 'o' other supplies afore he turned his wagon ta home."

"I already know about him needing dynamite for MacDonald's plan. I'll have to ask Ross and Jonas how much he's bought recently and if anyone else has started stocking up on it. He didn't happen to hint to Ross what he wanted it for?"

Festus couldn't answer my last question. We sat and ate, although I was soon sorry I'd offered to pay. My assistant wasn't much help with this so far and Festus' information wasn't quite worth what his food cost.

After our meal I sent Chester for the mail and to check the rumors over at the pool hall and the barbershop before returning to the office. When pressed he could listen without opening his mouth too much. Meanwhile, I paid a call on Ross and Jonas to learn whatever I could from them. It seemed almost everyone who happened to be originally from the South or had Rebel sympathies had a reason to buy explosives. Then, I alerted the owners of every possible target in Dodge.

That was only the start of a busy afternoon. Chester checked every spot a bomb might be planted. I did the same, duplicating his efforts and then some. I also finally cornered Quint when he was finishing up an army order to shoe 20 of their mounts. It gave me a chance to let Captain Hemmings, who happened to have come in with three enlisted men to pay for the work and return to Fort Dodge with the horses, that an attempt to restart the War was in progress. At least I didn't have to ride out to the Fort and back. Still, there were plenty of complaints to keep me as busy as I am during the height of the season. I could only hope this would all be resolved before the first large herd hit Dodge and that the town would be intact enough for them to recognize.

Every businesses owned by former Union soldiers was subjected to malicious vandalism and the employees threatened. If they were clearly from the South or border regions like Missouri the workers were told to undermine their employer and join the ranks of the renewed Confederacy or face the reprisals due a turncoat. They were forcibly encouraged to boycott businesses other than the one that employed them and deal only with those that were entirely in the hands of those who fought for or sympathized with the defeated so-called honorable cause. Even the favored businesses were to fire former Union soldiers and sympathizers and provide employment only for those who agreed with them. Chester and I had all we could do keeping the destruction and fistfights to a minimum. At least so far nobody had been killed.

Things were so busy that I was late starting my early rounds, so late that I went against my instincts and split the chore with Chester. Even with both of us at it, the amount of time the task took tripled. Like we'd been doing all afternoon we tried our best to preserve the peace and prevent any killings and so far had succeeded. However, that left little time for anything else, like the continual search for evidence of planted bombs at both the originally known targets and those that had been added since this morning. On top of that, as men became drunker after supper until closing, a greater chance for violence loomed over my town. I was grateful I was dealing only with locals or I'd have been forced to send Chester to Fort Dodge to request Captain Hemmings' superior put Dodge under martial law.

Finally, we returned to the office. Doc was waiting for us so I sent Chester with him to enjoy as quick a supper as he could manage. As soon as they were gone I checked the entire circumference of the jailhouse for any signs of a fuse or detonator. Then I checked the cells and finally, after locking the back and side doors, my office. I found nothing.

Maybe they wouldn't strike tonight. Even so, in order to keep things from getting out of control I decided to institute the same policies as I would when the first large herd arrived. All guns were to be turned in at my office and, all saloons, gambling establishments and dance halls were to close at the first sign of the violence getting out of hand. With the cattle season only a month away the posters were ready at the printers. I sent Chester to pick them up while I spoke with as many of the owners of the saloons and gambling houses as I could to let them know to close early. I'd rather they close before trouble started. Then, I made another check of the jailhouse and its perimeter even though I'd made sure all the doors were locked before I left. Once Chester returned from nailing up the posters along the entire length of Front Street, I unlocked the front door and entered so I could dress for my date with Kitty.


	9. Chapter 9 - An Evening with Kitty

**Chapter 9 – An Evening with Kitty Russell**

Chester returned from hanging the posters enough before 7:00 that he actually gave me five minutes to walk down the boardwalk to the Long Branch. I knew she expected me on time because we weren't going out to eat. She was preparing a private meal up in her rooms. I thought about going up the back stairs, but since Chester, Doc, Quint, Festus and Sam already knew we were having a private meal and very few of those who might be around to pay attention would do so, I decided to enter through the batwing doors. Accordingly, I made my way down the Boardwalk toward them.

We'd chosen the hour because the saloon tended to be relatively empty. The afternoon and pre-supper customers were gone and the nighttime crowd had yet to appear. Besides there was still a month or more to go before the first large herd so the few who were nearby were local. Despite all the social events Kitty claims I've missed, I'd escorted her to enough of them that it's general knowledge in and around town that we're special friends. What we've managed to conceal is just how special that friendship is. Only a very few know the true nature of our relationship, although there are those few people who've come through Dodge who were astute enough to guess correctly.

I stopped as I crossed from Jonas' store into the alley between there and the saloon, keeping to the shadows because of the scene at those very batwing doors I'd been heading toward. Creeping as close as I dared, I was able to hear the conversation.

"Miss Russell, I can't see what other possible engagement you have that would prevent me from taking you to supper," I heard MacDonald say as I approached. "Surely you can postpone any business meeting you might have until tomorrow so we can enjoy a full evening together. I've even arranged for an after supper buggy ride."

"Mr. MacDonald, let go of my arm," she demanded as he pulled her away from the doorway. "I have no intention of postponing what you call "business". I've made a special meal for a special friend and I'd just laid it out on the table and come downstairs to make final arrangements with Sam when you entered. My answer is an emphatic no. It's you who will have to wait until tomorrow or more likely forever."

I'd heard and seen enough. Despite Kitty's refusal the scoundrel took an even firmer hold on her arm, pulling her down the boardwalk as she continued to fight him. There was only one thing to do. I lengthened my stride so that I was behind the scoundrel in two steps and knocked the handle of my peacemaker against the side of his head in full view of Kitty. It was enough of a blow to force him to let go of her and knock him to the ground, but not enough to render him unconscious.

"For a man who claims to be a Southern gentleman, you're doing a pretty poor job of it," I growled. "When a lady says she's otherwise engaged, a true gentleman takes her word for it instead of forcing himself on her. Pick yourself off the street while I join Miss Russell for that supper she prepared before it gets cold," I added as I gave Kitty my arm and we strolled together through the batwing doors that I'd pushed open for us.

I'd thought Wilkins was still at his farm, but there he was sitting at one of the Long Branch tables with his back to us in the company of his two oldest boys. Festus, who'd been sipping a beer as he watched them, rose and met us halfway to the entrance.

"Marshal, yah want me ta stick with them three or tail that yahoo what tried to leave with Miss Kitty?" he whispered as he came abreast of us.

"Sam can keep an eye on the three in here until you can get Quint to see when they leave for home or wherever. You think you can still find where MacDonald went and also get my message to Quint?"

"If'n I cain't do 'er I've been spendin' too much time at city livin' ta still be a Haggen. I'll be back on MacDonald faster than ya can say a rat run over the roof with a piece of raw liver in his mouth."

Our quick conversation over, Festus continued past us and out the door while we made our way to the stairs. I nodded toward the Wilkins' table once I caught Sam's eye. He understood. We put our arms around each other's waist and climbed the stairs together. As soon as she unlocked her door, I held it open for her so she could precede me into her front room. Once we were both inside I turned back to lock the door before hanging my hat and gun belt on the peg in the wall by it.

Kitty didn't often cook but when she did whatever she made was delicious. Our supper was a sort of thick soup or stew that she made with the antelope Quint had brought back a couple of days before I set him to tailing our main troublemakers called gumbo. There was a pitcher of beer to wash it down with. A peach pie she managed to bake using the canned peaches from Jonas' store served with coffee and topped with whipped cream followed. We left the now empty dishes, except for the three quarters of a pie that remained, on the table and moved toward the divan. It wasn't long before we were seated side by side, each of us holding a glass of brandy. If it weren't for all that was going on I would gladly have spent the rest of the night there, forgetting all but the two of us.

Alas, that wasn't to be. I knew if I gave in to desire and kissed her I wouldn't learn what she'd managed to coax out of MacDonald before I had to go on late rounds. It was just possible he'd planned his first strike for tonight. Instead, I sat close but not quite touching listening to what she'd learned. Now that I'd hit him up side the head with my pistol I doubted he'd be willing to share anything more.

All too soon it was time for late rounds. Kitty had managed to learn MacDonald would ride out to the Wilkins place right after supper and stay there for the next couple of days. Since it would be after dark he'd ride over the still unfamiliar terrain beside the Wilkins' wagon. There were no plans he revealed to go after any business with more than threats and intimidation for at least two more days and no planned night attacks on property unless the business owners failed to come to terms with his demands. Still, I was taking no chances. I'd be checking everything closely as I made my rounds.

"Sorry that's all I was able to find out, Cowboy. I wasn't about to ruin our evening for a few more snatches of information from that odious man."

"Based on what I saw earlier I'm glad you won't be spending any more time with him. Make sure Sam has that shotgun of his handy in case he or his new cronies show up here tonight and that the back door is locked if you go into your office. Better yet, don't go there at all until I come back after rounds. See you later."


	10. Chapter 10 - Destruction in Earnest

Grace, Beverly and any other guests, thank you for your kind reviews.

**Chapter 10 – Destruction Begins in Earnest**

Neither Chester nor I found anything amiss during rounds last night. Nothing happened during the night either. Quint and Festus reported seeing Wilkins and his boys and MacDonald leaving town in the direction of the Wilkins farm around 8:30 so at least my coming between that self-styled general and Kitty hadn't changed his immediate plans. All was quiet as I made my way through the alleys back to my office to join Chester who, as usual, spent the night there on his cot.

Unlike the previous morning Dodge City remained quiet. Neither Wilkins nor MacDonald was seen inside the town limits so Quint was at work in his blacksmith shop and Festus went fishing with his girl April. I was having dinner in Delmonico's with Kitty and Doc when Chester, who'd eaten his own cooking so he could keep an eye on the office, came bursting into the restaurant. A picket line, led by Martin Gosley, had formed in front of the bakery. The young apprentice, Clarence Wilson, Fred and Martha's son, hadn't been made an equal partner as ordered. The boy, barely 18 and never very strong, had a flare for baking so when he was 15, partially because they needed the extra money, his folks let him learn the trade from Greg Rotterman. The boy proved far more adept at baking cakes and pies then he'd ever been at farming.

That wasn't all of it or I'd never have had grounds to step in. Clarence had a bloody lip and a couple of other bruises on his face. He claimed he'd been insulted by Rotterman and had swung at his boss, but before the baker could say or do anything both man and boy were attacked. Neither the baker nor his assistant could or would identify who hit him and the crowd was just as silent on the matter. I did catch a glimpse of both Fred Wilson and Rob Fuller, Ben's son, in the crowd but all I had was a suspicion that they were the two who stepped in. Had they not, Rotterman claimed he would simply have told the boy he was sorry for the inadvertent insult, but any further physical attack would mean his dismissal despite how much promise he showed.

I don't know if it was due to the fight, but batter and bake goods in all states of preparation were strewn around the bakery's kitchen. Rotterman agreed to allow young Wilson to return home until tomorrow and to close his store for the rest of the day after Doc, who'd followed along from Delmonico's, determined that neither was seriously hurt. Doc's services weren't needed at all when I broke up the fight between Gosley and Stan Mercer over who could provide halters and bridles. They were rolling in the dirt in front of their shops when I arrived and picked each man up by his shirt collar.

Similar incidents occurred all over town the rest of the afternoon. It kept Chester and me busy, but so far the kind of trouble I'd been expecting hadn't materialized. Even so, by five o'clock I was worried about what kind of a long night I had to face. It certainly wouldn't include any time alone with Kitty. Still, I might be able to grab a quick beer. I was almost to the Long Branch when she came racing out of it toward me only to be waylaid yet again by Beau MacDonald, who grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him as she ran past.

"Matt, I came downstairs to find they've wrecked the place and beaten Sam," she yelled as MacDonald jerked her arm behind her back. "Let go of me!" she cried before it turned into a scream of pain.

I ran the rest of the way and backhanded him with my left hand. He let her go and glared at me as I moved her behind me. I didn't want to do anything but knock him senseless, but with Kitty safe for the moment, I gave him a second to explain the inexcusable.

"Dillon, your Yankee law can't do a thing to me. We true Southerners planned to get you for your traitorous acts toward the cause you should have supported. As for your whore, she's no longer worthy of being thought of as a Southern lady even if she did set things right for Fred Wilson and his family. Despite that, I only intended to hurt her enough for her to know who is in charge."

I'd heard enough. Although MacDonald went for his gun, I didn't step back and shoot him. Instead I drew mine before his cleared leather and took two steps closer. Then, I pistol-whipped him with a series of hard blows to the head from my gun barrel, leaving him unconscious on the boardwalk. Just as I turned to comfort Kitty, who was standing watching, Festus and Quint arrived.

"Take this snake and dump him at the edge of town. I can't stand the sight of him."

I put my arm around Kitty's waist and escorted her back inside. The place was a mess. Every table was overturned and at least half the chairs were broken as was every bottle behind the bar. Sam, who lay slumped against the bar railing, was starting to stir. We both strode to his side.

"Oh, Sam. I'm so sorry," Kitty murmured as she kneelt beside her craggy faced head barkeep.

"Sam, were you able to get a good look at them? Did you recognize any of them?" I asked.

He managed to shake his head no, but I could see it was painful. My anger at MacDonald hadn't subsided but I was thinking clearly enough that I knew Sam needed Doc. I left Kitty to comfort him while I went for our ornery physician. After the physician's initial ministrations, Sam was able, with help, to make it to Doc's office. By the time Kitty was sure he'd be okay and we returned to the Long Branch I'd cooled down enough to wonder if I'd have to stand trial for MacDonald's murder, but Quint and Festus returned to assure me he was still breathing.

Word would surely leak out about what I'd done to MacDonald. I braced myself for trouble over and above what I already expected. First I deputized Quint and Festus and sent them and Chester to patrol my town while I remained with Kitty. I didn't know if she was in any more danger, but I was taking no chances. Except for supper with her and Doc, if he felt he could leave Sam unattended, at Delmonico's I'd spend all my time at the Long Branch. Chester, Quint and Festus would split time in the office with doing rounds so that at least two of them were patrolling the street while the office remained continually manned.

When nothing more occurred by closing time, I helped Kitty lock up, sent Quint and Festus home and gave Chester some time off before he returned to the office to sleep on his cot. Still, I told them to keep their eyes and ears open for any sign of trouble, including planted bombs. None of us had thought to check on the telegraph wires despite Barney not being worried that nothing had come in over them. Actually, things were peaceful enough that Captain Hemmings and five of his troopers returned to the fort, but with assurances that I'd send a wire if any new skirmishes became a battle.


	11. Chapter 11 - Final Confrontation

**Chapter 11 – Final Confrontation**

Dawn was about to break when I awoke to find Kitty still asleep next to me in her big brass bed. As quietly as I could I dressed, left her rooms and made my way to the back stairs of the Long Branch to begin my route through the alleys until I used one of the cross streets or parallel alleys to return to Front Street. I'd only gone as far as the stair landing when I caught a movement to my left. Someone darted out from under the stairs. I raced down the steps to the ground before yelling out for the figure to halt. Cullen Wilkins turned to face me just as a shot rang out from behind me. That shot missed and so did mine as I quickly spun to return fire.

The shooter, Parker, the oldest of the Wilkins boys, joined his brother in a zigzag path toward a collection of empty beer barrels and whiskey kegs. I fired off another shot as a warning, but the boys had reached the junction with Chestnut Street where their father was waiting with the horses. I let them ride out. I knew where to find them when the time came. I had more important things to do. Josiah Wilkins had already managed to set three fuses ablaze that led to the dynamite charges the boys had placed under the stairs and along the back of the Long Branch. There were other bombs along the sides of the saloon as well that I quickly dismantled. Luckily they hadn't had time to light all the fuses because I'm not sure I would have been able to get to all of them in time.

The gunfire must have awakened Kitty because she stood on the landing in her robe watching to make sure I was unhurt by the time I returned to the bottom of the stairs, completing my circuit. I nodded at her now that the danger to her was past and continued on my way. I'd just stepped onto the Front Street boardwalk about a block away from the jailhouse when the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise. I ducked down the nearest alley and retraced my path to the Long Branch until I reached the back of the Dodge City Bank. When I arrived, Fred Wilson was bent over, a lit match in his hand, ready to light a fuse. He put up little resistance.

Again I reversed direction. With the poor farmer leading the way, I continued on toward the jail just in time to hear a huge explosion. Keeping my revolver in the small of Fred Wilson's back, I urged him ahead of me until we could see what was left of my office.

To my surprise the building was still standing and Chester, with his ungainly gait due to his stiff right leg, was rushing toward us. The back door had been blown off its hinges. The blast had also blown apart the water barrel by the door causing the rushing water to fizzle out the other three fuses before reaching the remaining dynamite that would have destroyed the jailhouse.

Luck must have been with me because the blown off door had flown backwards and pinned General Beau MacDonald against the fence behind my sometime and Chester's fulltime home. Despite his predicament, he was still frantically trying to strike a match to light the remaining dry fuse. I turned Wilson over to Chester while I drew my revolver to deal with the snake responsible for what could have been Kitty and Chester's deaths. His attempt to destroy my town in order to rekindle the war that had officially ended at Appomattox 11 years ago, at least locally, was now doomed.

By the time I'd controlled my temper enough to secure rather than choke MacDonald to death and reached the cells through a now door-less entry Chester had locked up Wilson. He handed me the keys so I could do the same with the general. That done, I unlocked the cell Chester had put the poor farmer in and led him to the front through the intact interior door to sit at the square table in my office.

"Fred, what's gotten into you? You've never broken the law before."

"I sure ain't Marshal, but a man can take just so much. I'm grateful someone forced Fuller to deed my land to me without me havin' to pay 'im back fer it, but that don't account fer the fact Bodkin and his bank backed Fuller in the first place. It were too early fer anyone to be in the bank, but the banker would feel the loss. It would cost him plenty; maybe even his job."

"Ready cash was all the persuading Fuller needed to sign over the deed to your Good Samaritan. You now own the land you'd worked so hard for and no longer run the risk of being thrown off it. Why seek revenge? Someone out early could have been killed. Maybe even the person who got your land back."

"Sounds like you know who gave me my land. There were no actual name on the copy of the deed the clerk brung out. I'm thinkin' it were done so's you or another turncoat like you kin have a hold over me. The general and colonel explained about Yankee treachery and even worse those who are traitors to their heritage."

"Yeah, I know who bought the deed from Ben Fuller. I also know Bodkin felt terrible about kicking you off your farm. Wilson, there are rules a banker has to follow no matter what he thinks, just like I have to stay within the law even when I disagree with it."

"What law did General MacDonald break? All he done was explain how we need to continue the war because the Yanks sure as heck have kept it up. They been stealing us blind."

"I arrested MacDonald because I caught him trying to blow up the jailhouse. If every bomb he'd set had gone off this building would have been destroyed and Chester killed if he hadn't been with Moss playing two-handed poker. C'mon Fred, do what's right. The War was over here in Dodge until MacDonald came to town, you know."

"Maybe you're right about things here in Dodge, except for Fuller, but I cain't help but believe yer so down on the general 'cause he's been romancin' your gal. I'll maybe believe you ain't lyin' if you tell me who bought my land fer me and why."

I needed his testimony along with that of young Stanton Wilkins if I was going to have enough evidence to charge MacDonald and Stanton Wilkin's pa and brothers with something that would put them all away for a long time. What evidence I had was little more than circumstantial. Also, I wasn't even sure the boy would testify against his kin in court. Therefore I told Wilson Kitty was the one who secured his farm for him and that her place was vandalized and Sam beaten because of it before Wilkins tried to blow up the Long Branch this morning with the help of his two oldest boys.

Wilson was coming around, but still wasn't completely convinced. However, once I took him to the Long Branch, showed him the dynamite separated from the fuses placed around the Long Branch and took him inside where he could clearly see Sam's injuries and the damage to the barroom, he needed no more persuasion. Wilson didn't wait to return to the jailhouse, he spilled everything he knew in front of Sam, Kitty and me.

I had one more task before Judge Brooking arrived for the trial. Leaving Quint to guard the jail, I went with Festus and Chester to the Wilkins farm. The three of us rode as far as the same stand of trees Chester and I had hidden in the last time I was here. The place seemed quiet except for the extra horses tied to the rail by the house and in the corral. There were too many for the three of us to take, but we might be lucky enough to catch a few one at a time and so even the odds. Most of them were farmers or shopkeepers, not hardened soldiers or gunmen, although some had been just that during and immediately after the War.

The three of us split up in order to better trap Wilkin's visitors as they left. The first three, two dirt farmers and a store clerk, mounted their horses. One turned north, one turned south toward the river and the third toward town. All it took was for one of us to ride out on the trail in front of each of them, our rifles at the ready, to get them to give themselves up and once herded together to be tied and gagged. A quick check of their saddlebags revealed a stash of dynamite and fuses. Now it was only Wright, his sons and two more remaining.

Leaving our captives and their horses tied to trees near ours, we crept up to the house. I sent Festus to the back door while Chester and I dealt with the front. He and I peeked into a window on either side of the door. There were three men and the three Wilkins boys inside. I checked my watch, saw it was 2:30, the agreed upon time, counted to 10 and busted in the door, moving immediately to my left so that the door slammed against the wall in case anyone was hiding behind it while Chester followed me in and Festus came in through the kitchen with Cora Wilkins and Martha Wilson in front of him, his pistol and the shotgun from the kitchen pointed at their backs. All five men raised their hands after unbuckling their gun belts and kicking them toward Chester and me. Stanton surrendered his rifle, adding it to the pile.

Of the men in the house, Martin Gosley and Reg Crestwood, the cattle buyer, tried nothing more. Parker, Cullen and their father Josiah had other ideas. They tried to rush us, but Festus, still behind Cora and Martha was able to momentarily trip up Parker. The three Wilkins dove for the pile of guns and were killed by Festus and me for their efforts. We steered everyone who remained outside, waited for them to saddle two horses in the barn and lead them in the direction of the trees, leaving the two women and Stanton to return to the house.

Fred Wilson and his son Clarence, who was one of the three caught leaving the Wilkins homestead, willingly told all they knew at the trial. Since Clarence hadn't committed any violent act or even attempted one, his six-month sentence for participating in the conspiracy was suspended. He went back to working for Greg Rotterman at the bakery as a junior partner instead of an employee. His father was sentenced to four years in the state penitentiary with all but one year suspended because he was caught before he'd gotten very far toward blowing up the bank. Crestwood, who also testified against the conspirators, received a sentence of one year despite having done nothing more than young Clarence because he, as a representative of the business that was the lifeblood of the town, was presumably more aware of the consequences of his actions. It was also suspended in deference to that same business.

Ben Fuller's reasons for his actions, though not prosecutable, were explained during General Beauregard Fletcher MacDonald's trial and sentencing. Money rules Fuller. He saw a chance to clean up by foreclosing on Wilson while MacDonald was sowing the seeds of violent dissention. Kitty allowed him a small profit. Even he couldn't thwart a beautiful woman whose saloon he frequented. Kitty, whoever else was affected by MacDonald, my and the conspirators' testimony led to his conviction and the length of his sentence. Even Stanton Wilkins, reluctant to hurt his family, was willing to tell how the man's arrival brought heartbreak to his home. The general was given 15 years at hard labor in Leavenworth. However, the man who ignored Lee's surrender and continued the War wasn't finished with me and mine.


	12. Chapter 12 - 15 Years Later

**Chapter 12 – 15 Years Later**

Had anyone asked me back in 1876 when Quint and Chester were still in Dodge if I'd be testifying at a second trial of General Beauregard Fletcher MacDonald and a whole new gang of his followers I would have told them it was impossible. Then again, had they asked me back then if I thought that I would be a judge with a wife and three kids with a fourth on the way living on a ranch we just moved to in March of 1891 I would have told them they were crazy, and that's a fact. That my wife is Kitty and our home is six miles northeast of Dodge is something that's also a fact. However, although she's the only woman I could possibly have married, I would have thought up until a few years ago we would have settled well away from Dodge City and Ford County, somewhere I'm not as well known.

Last time I tangled with MacDonald he might have killed me. Had I slept later than dawn his collaborator Josiah Wright and his sons Parker and Cullen might have blown up the saloon and me and Kitty with it. If I hadn't had to stop the Long Branch from being blown apart or prevent the bank from being blown up, I might have arrived at my office sooner and been blown up by MacDonald himself. Then again, Chester, who was just returning from the livery after a night of poker, might have stopped the man even if the water barrel didn't. Nobody was killed so MacDonald didn't hang. Instead he spent the past 15 years in Leavenworth serving a sentence for conspiracy, attempted murder and destruction of federal property in an attempt to rekindle the War Between the States.

His time in prison didn't teach MacDonald a thing. As soon as he was released he gathered up his nephew as second in command and an army of boys to seek revenge on Kitty and me by nearly beating me to death in front of our two boys, Nat 14, whom we adopted along with his sister Abby 11, three months after we married June 3, 1887, and Adam, turned three a week ago on March 8, our red-haired miracle who will be followed in June by a second miracle. Had Newly O'Brian, Ford County's second doctor, former gunsmith and part-time deputy, not come along while making his semiannual rounds, they might just have succeeded.

I'd taken advantage of the chance to take my boys hunting and fishing in honor of my retirement at the end of 1890 and Adam's birthday now that we'd moved from our apartment over the Long Branch before I had to take up my new duties as circuit judge for Southwest Kansas and the new federal district centered in Dodge. Kitty was at home with Abby helping her to take it easy under Doc's watchful eye. We were enjoying being at Wild Horse Lake and living off the land and I was enjoying teaching my boys how to do just that when MacDonald attacked. Newly did what he could for me at the lake and then brought me to the Brice ranch ten miles outside of the little town of Ivanhoe near Garden City.

The beating was severe enough that besides being sore from bruises covering my entire upper body, I suffered several broken ribs, including one that punctured a lung, and a severe concussion. The severity of my injuries brought Kitty, Doc and Abby racing to my side from home to join our more scared than injured boys at my bedside. Newly somehow managed to re-inflate that lung before their arrival.

While I recovered enough to get out of bed MacDonald's nephew committed murder outside Dodge. He and his nephew arrested and were being held in what had been my jail. Lionel Walker, my handpicked replacement as marshal agreed to send them to Garden City to face the charges filed against them for what they did to my boys and me. It's a good thing they didn't move everything to Dodge. I'm not sure if I'd have been up to testifying as soon as I did, but only Kitty and possibly Doc knew that.

At the trial I was still sore enough to have trouble moving, but had no trouble giving my testimony. MacDonald was still the unrepentant rebel who proudly claimed he was teaching Kitty and our boys a lesson for her treachery to the South by making them watch me slowly die from the beating I received. He referred to me as a Yankee lawman, but I knew he thought me a worse traitor than Kitty because I chose, despite where I came of age, to fight in the Union Army. Her crime was falling in love with me. He thought the fact we were expecting another child would make his revenge even sweeter.

As a result of this trial MacDonald and the boys who were old enough to face trial were sentenced to 20 years each. The younger ones were sentenced to a reformatory until they turned 18, however many years that was. His nephew Rufus MacDonald was sentenced to hang. MacDonald was soon on his way back to Leavenworth and, on Monday, a full week after my beating, I was on the train with my family, including Doc Adams, heading home to Dodge City. We'd reach it in about three hours. Doc grumpily allowed me to have dinner at Delmonico's before he climbed the steps to his office and Nat drove us home to the ranch in our surrey.

Doc would have been pleased when we got to the ranch. I know Kitty and Newly were. I obeyed orders and went right to bed where the two redheaded women I now have in my life served me supper in bed when I awoke from sleep. Soon I was asleep again, waking only briefly when Kitty joined me.


End file.
